


Wrathchild

by margaritaville_antifa



Category: Yes (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 00:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17151485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margaritaville_antifa/pseuds/margaritaville_antifa
Summary: Trevor finds Alan dead. Can he solve the murder of his bandmate before the killer strikes again?





	Wrathchild

Trevor Rabin woke up to the shrill sound of his alarm clock. He got up, made his bed, and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. After a quick shower, he made a breakfast of corn flakes. As he was eating his cereal, he looked out the window. It was a beautiful day, sun was out, no clouds in sight.

“I should go for a jog,” he thought.

He finished eating and put his bowl in the kitchen sink. He changed into a sleeveless shirt, shorts, and running shoes and then headed out. But before he could go anywhere, he had to take out the garbage. It was overflowing a bit.

When he went around the back of the building to the dumpster, he was hit by a very horrible smell. This area usually smelt bad, sure, but not like this. Then he noticed the pair of feet sticking out from behind the dumpster.

Trevor rushed over to see if this person needed help, and he gasped when he saw his face. It was Alan White. His bandmate.

Alan was… dead

 

The police surrounded the body and taped the area off. Trevor was still shaken up from what he saw. He saw a limo pull up and Chris, Jon, and Tony hopped out.

“Trevor, what happened?” Jon asked.

“It’s terrible… Alan is…” Trevor had trouble finishing his sentence because he couldn’t stop crying.

“WHAT? No…” Chris wanted to scream.

“Who would do such a thing? Alan was so nice…” Jon burst into tears.

One of the officers pulled them aside. “Uh, sirs? Not that I’m suspecting any of you of anything, but we do need to take you in for questioning.”

 

The remaining Yes members were questioned at the police station for hours and hours. The ordeal wasn’t pleasant to say the least, but ultimately, the police didn’t find any of them suspicious so they were let go.

“I can’t believe Alan is gone…” Trevor said, as they walked home.

“I know… This is terrible,” Jon said. Tears were running down his cheek.

“I’m gonna to find the crook who did this,” Chris said. Alan’s death will be avenged…”

“Can I help?” Called a voice from the shadows.

They looked over and who should it be but Eddie Jobson, world-famous prog rock violinist.

“Eddie? What are you doing over here in LA?” Trevor said.

“Oh, just visiting.” Eddie flipped his blonde hair. “Y’know, the usual…”

They all went back to Trevor’s house and looked at the scene of the crime. Alan’s body had already been removed and a chalk outline was in place instead. That’s when Trevor noticed some graffiti on the dumpster that read “I WILL NOT BE REPLACED.”

“What the… Chris, look at that.” Trevor pointed to the words.

Chris took one look and clenched his fists.

“Bill…”

 

At the Greek Theater, King Crimson were having a concert. When it was over, Bill went backstage, wiping his face with a towel. He removed it from his eyes and came head to head to Chris. He snickered. “Wow, really Chris?”

“What?”

“Your shirt.”

Chris looked down at the Captain & Tennille shirt he was wearing. “They’re good musicians! You got a problem?”

“Whatever. Why are you here, fish?”

“Who killed Alan?”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Alan White is dead. You know, the drummer we recruited after you left us? Your replacement?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’ve been on tour with Crimson all week.”

“That IS a solid alibi,” Trevor said.

“But… but the replacement note! On the dumpster, someone wrote “I will not be replaced” so it’s gotta be-”

“God Chris,” Bill said. “You sacked so many people, it could’ve been anyone! Peter, Rick, Steve, that one Swiss man you had for a year…”

“Patty.”

“Yeah, him.”

“But… Alan was a drummer… and we’ve only had one other drummer besides him… which is you.”

Jon came through the door. “Tony and I talked with Robert. It’s definitely not Bill,” he said. “On the night of Alan’s murder, King Crimson was all the way up in Seattle.”

Suddenly, the lights flashed off. There was the sound of breaking glass and screaming. The lights were back on and Bill Bruford was dead with knives sticking out of his body.

“Oh my GOD!” Trevor yelled.

The police were called and Yes were questioned again. But, like last time, they were cleared.

“So it wasn’t Bill,” Trevor said.

“Who is it then? Maybe it’s Patty, he seemed pretty upset with being fire- Oh hey, Eddie. Where did you go, I didn’t see you around when the police came.”

“Sorry Chris. I heard sirens and got nervous. What happened?”

“Bill was killed.”

“Oh no,” Eddie gasped. “Who do you suspect now?”

“I’d wager Patrick, the prick.” Chris frowned, thinking of Patrick Moraz’s awful, awful face.

“What’s he doing nowadays?” Tony asked.

“He’s with the Moody Blues.”

“Oh,” Tony said, nodding. “I forgot they were still around. Anyways, I’m gonna go home. See ya guys.”

“Goodnight Tony.”

 

The next morning, Trevor knocked on the door of Tony’s house. There was no answer, which Trevor thought was odd because Tony was usually up around this time. He jiggled the door knob and to his surprise, it was unlocked.

“Tony?” Trevor stepped inside, cautiously, not sure what to expect. A dark cloud of dread hung over his head as he slowly made his way down the hall. The feeling would be confirmed when he went into the living room and saw Tony, lifeless on the floor, with a knife in his chest. 

“Tony? TONY!” Trevor broke down, falling onto his knees and shaking the body. He knew it was hopeless. Tony was dead. He gathered his composure and dialed the number for the police.

“Yes, hello? I need the police, I just found my friend dead on the floor…”

As soon as he got the confirmation that the police were on their way, Trevor hung up, trying to choke back the tears. The light from the window reflected off of something on the ground. A long, thin string. He took a closer look and his heart sank. 

It was a violin string.

 

Trevor banged on the door of Chris’s house. “CHRIS! CHRIS! I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU!”

Chris opened the door. “What are you yelling about?”

“Chris, I have something important to tell you. We’re not safe.”

“What?” Chris stood by as Trevor rushed past him, into his house.

“I know who the killer is. It’s-” Trevor stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Eddie sitting on the couch.

“Who is it?” Chris asked.

“HIM!” Trevor pointed towards Eddie.

Eddie started to laugh. “Oh Trevor… I guess you have some brains behind that pretty face after all…”

“But… Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a good musician, the best rock violinist there is, and yet… You guys still kick me out of “Yes Band.” It was HUMILIATING.” Eddie pulled out a gun. “I’m not going to take it anymore…”

The gun went off. “NO!” Chris jumped sexily in front of the bullet, protecting Trevor.

“Chris, NO!” 

Chris lay on the floor, bleeding profusely. Trevor pulled out his own gun and shot Eddie, killing him instantly, and then fell to his hands and knees. “Chris, please don’t leave me…” Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I love you…”

“I love you too, Trevor…” Chris gasped for air. “Be good, tell Jon… that I love him as well…”

“Chris, no please. You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay…” Trevor embraced Chris, kissing his face, rocking back and forth. “It’s okay, it’s okay…” Trevor babbled to himself, but he knew it wasn’t okay. The blood seeped through Chris’s shirt, permanently staining Toni Tennille a bright shade of red. Trevor was now all alone, no one to guide him, support him… Without his beloved bandmates, there was simply no more Yes.

So he called up Jon and they called up Rick Wakeman and made ARW. The end.


End file.
